Continuing on this homesick theme the next morning, Marin asked a lot of questions about death and heaven, and whether I promised to take care of her the rest of her life.
I told Marin I promised to take care of her for as long as I live, which then prompted questions about how long I will live (Marin is very alert to possible double talk and digs for the truth). Unbeknownst to Marin, longevity is something I obsess about because it is linked to my determination that we not outlive our wealth. I have gone so far as to have my life expectancy scientifically projected using data points like my health and safety habits, blood and urine test results, family history, and genetics. So, I have a very good idea about how long I will live and a financial plan for supporting that life span.
So then I ask Marin "How old do you think you will be when you die?" Without missing a beat, she shoots right back "88" (which happens to be my number) . I looked up at her, to see if she was smirking or laughing - you know - anything to signal that she had overheard me saying that number to someone and was trying to push my buttons - but she was dead serious. That was her real answer.
It's creepy. Marin is not that good at math (yet), and of all the numbers she could have said, she just pulls that one out of thin air.
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